


An Odd Dance

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Communication Failure, Dubious Consent, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Painful Sex, bottom!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:03:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur doesn't know that before anal sex you should prepare your partner, you should go slow and hold your excitement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Odd Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that there is dubious consent in this fic, with Merlin agreeing to sex even if it hurts. There is a brief mention of what could be interpreted as bleeding brought on by the sex.
> 
> There are also mentions of sex work.

*

Merlin's in his own bed now, his aching body curled like a snail. As he closes his eyes his mind wanders. He can't control it.

Yesterday comes back to him in a flash.

*

He's saved Arthur's life so many times he hardly believes another time will make any difference. This time it's a wounded boar. Arthur's spear sticks in its flank, leaving him defenceless. Merlin manages to kill the beast using another spear, plus some magic. Arthur only sees the spear.

They sit down against a tree afterwards, and Merlin prods Arthur's ribs, feeling for any damage. His own heart beats faster than Arthur's. It was close this time. _Too close_.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asks, trying not to let his panic show in his voice.

Arthur laughs, still out of breath; throws his head back as he the surprisingly high-pitched sound leaves his mouth. He looks flushed, but not overwhelmed. Not like Merlin.

"Never better," Arthur says, and there's that well-known, almost affectionate arrogance in his voice. "I had no idea that you were so capable with a spear. Who knows, maybe you're not such a girl after all?"

Merlin tenses up. His desperate feeling of almost-failure is changing into something more aggressive. "Thank you, _Sire_. I take it that's as close as you'll ever get to thanking me for saving your life?"

Arthur runs a gloved hand through his own hair, which is only slightly damp with sweat. "It _was_ brave of you. But so careless! I could have taken him down with my dagger. Silly of you to risk your life like that."

"Well, next time a bloodthirsty beast decides that it wants to maul you I will just stand back and enjoy then!" Merlin spits, finally properly enraged. His mind is reeling, his body on edge with the residues of fear and magic. "You're more of a pig than that poor thing you just killed!"

Arthur barks out a laugh, not quite as breathless this time. "Did you just call me a pig?" He seems amused.

"Yes!" Merlin says, much too loud. "Have you seen yourself when you come in after training the knights on a rainy day? You look like a hog that's accidentally tangled itself in sundry pieces of metal, tried to shake it all off and finally given up and retreated to take a mud bath! You even sound and smell like a pig when I have to pull it all off of you! A pig that has given up on the finer things in life and really let itself _go_."

At the end of that fine speech, Arthur's eyes have widened considerably, and it's a moment's work for him to grab Merlin's shoulders and shove him against the tree. "I'm the Prince, _Mer_ lin! You don't talk to me like that!"

"I just did, you prat!" Merlin says. He's too angry for this. He wants to get back to Camelot and go to bed, not having to see Arthur again for several hours.

And suddenly Arthur starts to laugh, which seems to be a recurrent event. His face is still far too close to Merlin's. "You're such an idiot," he says. "I'm not ungrateful. I just didn't want you to get hurt. You're so _delicate_." He lets go of Merlin and leans back against the tree.

"I am not delicate!" Merlin says, because his anger hasn't abated.

"You are, though," Arthur says. "Look."

He grabs Merlin's left wrist, encircles it with his thumb and forefinger, which meet easily.

"Not like my knights at all." Arthur's voice has gone soft and thoughtful. It's such a complete contrast to his tone just a few moments back that it has Merlin completely baffled.

Merlin wants to pull away, try to make sense out of things. But he's transfixed by the sight of Arthur's hand on his own wrist. Arthur seems to be looking at the same thing. Slowly he lets go of Merlin's wrist and puts the palm of his right hand against the palm of Merlin's left. Arthur's hand is warm and dry, calloused from using a sword since he was a boy. Merlin's palm is smaller, although his fingers are longer.

"See how different our hands are," Arthur says, and Merlin is no longer sure he hasn't taken a blow to the head.

"Gaius once said I had hand's like a midwife," Merlin says. "I really don't, though. At least I don't think so." He feels his cheeks colour at that and wonders why he's telling Arthur something as embarrassing as that.

Arthur doesn't mock him. "I don't know any midwives. Your hands look like the hands of a harpist, or a scribe, or something. Strong, but elegant. You can do better things with them than fight."

"I thought knights couldn't think of anything more worthy than fighting."

Arthur shrugs his shoulders, unaffected. "I'm a knight. A _prince_. One day I'll be king. Fighting is a part of that. I've never had a choice. It doesn't mean that I think it's what everyone should be doing."

He's still pressing his hand against Merlin's.

"We're all different," Merlin says. Before he can stop himself he touches Arthur's hair. "Your hair is different, too. It's more princely than mine."

"Is princely even a word?"

"I'm sure it is. Meaning all golden, and straight, and shiny."

And Arthur actually reaches out and touches Merlin's hair. "Your hair is-- Nice. It's so-- _dark_."

"You do have a way with words," Merlin says.

From then on, they're like two besotted thirteen-year olds, comparing body parts like their bodies are mysteries. It's only a matter of time before Merlin touches Arthur's lips.

Arthur looks at him, and his pupils are wide. He lifts his hand towards Merlin's face and pushes his thumb between Merlin's lips, sweeps the wet digit across Merlin's lips. He cradles Merlin's jaw in the palm of his hand. Merlin closes his eyes. All of his consciousness is suddenly in his mouth. He gasps. Arthur's hand is so warm, he can almost feel it burning him. He imagines Arthur must feel his pulse beating rapidly, heavy. He lets his hand fall from Arthur's face and grabs at anything and catches the chain mail on Arthur's arm.

Arthur's hand, meanwhile, continues its exploration of everything that is Merlin's mouth. It glides in between Merlin's parted lips, moves slowly in the warm space between his teeth and his lower lip. Merlin feel's his mouth tingle, feels so aware of the slow dragging of a tiny part of Arthur inside this wet recess of his own body. And he can't help himself, he touches Arthur's finger with the tip of his tongue. He almost forgets how to breathe as he explores the softness of the pad of the thumb, the sharpness of the fingernail. The taste is slightly salty; sweat, a hint of the leather of his glove. Something green, maybe leaves or grass or moss. Arthur is quiet, his breathing strained.

When Arthur removes his finger the loss almost hurts. And then both his hands are on Merlin's face, cradling it, stroking it. Arthur's fingers on Merlin's brow, on his cheeks. Over his eyelashes. His hands feels so large, and so impossibly careful. Time freezes, like magic. The moment just before Arthur's tongue touches his lower lip, just where his finger was an aeon ago, is heartbreakingly long, and sweet with promise.

Arthur carefully traces Merlin's cupid bow with the very tip of his tongue, then licks further in, where Merlin's lips are fullest. Even before Arthur sucks at them, Merlin's head is spinning. He's aware of falling slowly, and of the weight of Arthur on top of him. He's aware of Arthur’s tongue probing in his mouth, of finally feeling those sharp, white teeth on his own lips. It might be hours later when Arthur gets up again. Merlin remains on the ground, eyes still closed. He raises his hand towards his mouth, feeling his lips. Have Arthur's lips really been there? He opens his eyes and stares at the green canopy.

It's certainly not the first time he's been kissed, but it's the first time he's felt like this; drunk with it, barely able to stand.

"Let's go home." Arthur sounds hoarse. Merlin is grateful for this evidence to the fact that he's not the only one affected.

They're both quiet on their way back. The sun is sinking when they reach Camelot, but the air is still hot and dusty, promising a warm summer night. Merlin follows Arthur like a puppy up the stairs, and falls giddily into the bed as soon as the door is closed. He stretches out his arms, wanting Arthur as soon as possible.

"You're supposed to help me get out of my armour first," Arthur says. "Before offering yourself to me."

Merlin scrambles up again, very reluctantly.

Arthur chuckles, as if he hasn't got anything to say, but doesn't really want complete silence, either. He shakes his head.

Fortunately, Merlin has helped Arthur out of his armour enough times to be able to do it without much thought. He fills the basin with water for Arthur to wash in. No bath today, it would take too much time.

When Merlin turns round, Arthur peels off his shirt. Merlin has seen him done it so many times, but this time it's so intimate and secret, like watching a serpent shed its skin. He's still enthralled when Arthur steps in close and starts removing Merlin's shirt as well. Then, suddenly, they're both naked together.

Arthur washes Merlin carefully, and wet cloth against sweaty skin has never felt so good. Merlin shudders as the water trickles along his spine. When Arthur finally leads him to the bed, he feels hypersensitive, as if he can sense every smell carried in through the slightly open window and every shift of temperature, of texture, in the floor beneath him.

Arthur stops by the bed and kneels down by Merlin's feet.

"You can still refuse. I won't do anything against your will. You don't have to do it because you're my servant."

Merlin shakes his head. "I want this. I want whatever you want. I'm not forced to do anything."

Arthur looks down on the floor. "I've never-- You know. With a man. I know what goes where, but that's it."

"I've never even got this far with anyone before," Merlin admits.

"Are you telling me you're a virgin?" Arthur seems surprised.

"It's just that I've never wanted to. I wanted this with someone I-- Cared about." And no-one's ever cared about _him_ enough to go this far before.

Arthur swallows. "But you do know what we're going to do?"

"I know some." He knows a lot, actually, even though he's never done much more than touching and kissing back home in Ealdor. He's no innocent. The servants of Camelot aren't coy in their conversation, and he’s heard a lot through them. But he doesn't know how to tell Arthur that.

Arthur laughs, embarrassed, and pushes Merlin to lie on the bed. He lies down at Merlin's side, a pleasant, comforting presence. Warm and solid.

"Do you touch yourself?" Arthur asks, breaking the silence. He lets his hand wander over Merlin's chest and belly. Just beyond his fingertips, Merlin's already hard.

"I'm human." Which means he touches himself three or four times per day, all of them thinking of Arthur. But that's another thing he isn't entirely sure he wants Arthur to know just yet.

"Sometimes I wonder about that."

Merlin reaches out his hand and touches Arthur, really _touches_ him. It's the first time, despite all of the times he's dressed and undressed Arthur before this. He's is softer than Merlin is. His skin feels smoother, not as stretched out over meagre bones. He's more cushioned, too; flat planes of muscle covered by just enough fat. His chest is hairier than Merlin's is, dark-gold hair which disappears against his skin. His belly is soft, the muscles not so visible when he lies down. It makes him look vulnerable. Merlin grazes a mole on the side of Arthur’s stomach, then lets his hand trail down again. He thumbs at Arthur's perfectly round belly button before he lets his hand envelop Arthur's cock.

Arthur gasps.

Merlin leans over and kisses him. He feels more complete like that, when his lips are on Arthur's lips, and his chest is pressed to Arthur's, and he can lie on Arthur, finally. He grinds his cock against Arthur's. It's heavenly, and Merlin is melting, his mind going all wrong. He never wants this to end. Then Arthur's hand is reaching behind his balls, and into the cleft of his arse. It's different, but still good. He pushes against Arthur's hand, and Arthur presses his finger into Merlin. It's dry and it burns. It'll get better. Merlin's no stranger to touching himself there.

"You still want it?" Arthur's voice is hoarse, needy.

"Yes," Merlin says. Yes to all, yes to whatever. How could he say no?

Arthur turns him over easily, as if they're wrestling. He's strong. He makes Merlin bend his legs, so that he's on his hands and knees. It's strange when their bodies aren't being connected any more. Only Arthur's hand on his buttocks, spreading them. Merlin lets his head fall forward, tries to relax.

"You're so gorgeous. Do you know that?" Arthur's panting now, and Merlin can't believe he's the one who's reduced Arthur to that. Then he feels something larger than a finger pressing against his hole, and he tenses up. A flurry of thoughts pass through his mind. _Fingers_ , he wants to say. Oil, spit, _something_ to ease the way.

"Arthur?" he says, instead.

"Just relax," Arthur says. "Please, Merlin. Just relax and it'll be fine. It'll be good." There’s a pleading note in his voice that's so alien that Merlin recoils and melts at the same time.

Merlin puts his hot face against the pillows and finds himself going limp, his racing thoughts just stopping. All of a sudden he's too confused and mortified to say or do anything. Instead, he just goes limps. Being entered hurts, with nothing more than Arthur's precome to ease the way. It's like being ripped apart. Yet something inside him is still high, still so utterly turned on. Somehow it works. Arthur's inside.

Merlin feels Arthur pushing, and he has to bite his hand not to scream. It burns so bad, makes the skin and the muscles and everything _hurt_. Arthur's hands are on his hips. Merlin tries to focus on them, tries to remember how they look, how they feel, how they taste. He tries to think of Arthur's face, his eyes. Tries to remember that the faceless intruder is Arthur, that the thing in him is a part of the body he loves. But the Arthur doing _this_ is a stranger, a completely different Arthur than the Arthur who kissed him to within an inch of his life.

It all stretches out into infinity, and yet its probably only a minute at most, before Arthur moans and shudders behind him. Together they fall in a heap on the bed. Finally Merlin feels Arthur's heartbeat against his back, and Arthur's breath against the nape of his neck. And it would be wonderful, but for the pain. Merlin reaches back and feels at himself. It's wet. He slowly disentangles himself from Arthur, who's fallen asleep, and gets one of the cloths. He wipes his fingers, at first.

Fuck. The wet thing in his arse isn't just Arthur's come. Merlin takes a deep breath, forces himself to remain calm. He cleans Arthur's cock, and manages a spell to remove the stains from the sheets. Then he puts on his clothes and hurries back to Gaius' chambers. Fortunately, Gaius himself is already snoring in his own bed.

It's only when he finally closes his own door that Merlin realises the amount of pain that comes just from walking.

He changes his clothes, and lies down; lies still, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. When the dark melts away, and the light shining in through the tiny window is slate-coloured, he realises that it’s a new day, and that he hasn't slept at all.

*

When Arthur awakes, he's alone in his bed. Merlin's gone already, which Arthur thinks is probably wise. It would have been nice to wake up together, but also quite awkward. Although they've crossed a strange boundary together, life must somehow continue as usual. There can be no outward change. Merlin will still be a servant, and Arthur will still be his master. It's one thing to take another man to bed, but it's quite another thing to do it openly.

Like all warriors, Arthur knows how close men who train and fight together are, and how easily that can transform into something else. He's seen young men touching each other at night, after a battle. He knows, and he's never judged. As long as it's not flaunted, no-one cares about a thing like that. Even if a man lacks a particular appetite for other men, it will always be easier for an unmarried man to slake his lust with another man rather than to risk the wrath of a husband or a father. And it's cheaper than going to a brothel.

Arthur's never dabbled with other men. He's the prince, he's always been apart. His experience with women is almost as limited; a courtesan Uther brought him on his sixteenth birthday, some visits to a brothel. He stopped going after one of his men caught some disease there, although he lies to Uther and pretends he still goes.

Arthur's been fascinated by Merlin since the beginning; Merlin, who's odd-looking, but handsome, who's as delicate as a girl but insists that he's the one protecting Arthur. Merlin, Merlin, _Merlin_. The strange creature who evokes even stranger reactions from Arthur. Like taking himself in hand, just before he falls asleep, trying to imagine what Merlin's cock would taste like. Like dreaming of lying together in front of the fire on a cold winter's day, drinking mulled wine until they're giddy and end up in bed together.

It's an odd dance they've been dancing, these last months. Had one of them been a woman, their feelings would have been obvious for everyone, but as it is, it's all been just between the two of them. Arthur's been waiting for Merlin to take the first step, because it doesn't seem fitting that the Crown Prince should force himself on someone who might not be able to say no. Arthur isn't stupid, whatever people say behind his back. He's known, almost as soon as he recognised his own attraction, that Merlin wanted him back.

And then-- _yesterday_.

He'd kissed Merlin in the wood, and they’d both liked it. The only thing that had surprised him was Merlin's strange passivity. Somehow, that was never how things turned out in his mind.

In Arthur's fantasies, Merlin challenged him, like he always did. In Arthur's dreams, Merlin knew the things Arthur didn't, and everything turned out perfectly.

As the morning wears on, Arthur realises that Merlin isn't coming, which is strange, because he _always_ shows up, chatting about something or other. In the end Arthur gets dressed and decides to go round to Gaius' chambers and look for Merlin. He feels a bit embarrassed about it, as if anyone seeing him will understand what he’d been up to yesterday.

_Yesterday_. He blushes at the thought.

He remembers Merlin lying on all fours in front of him, pale arse cheeks parted. He remembers trying to push into Merlin, which wasn't as easy as doing it with a woman.

Entering Merlin had been slightly uncomfortable; too tight, too hot and too dry. Merlin had tensed at first, and hadn't really looked as if he was enjoying it. Then he'd gone unnaturally silent and completely limp, Arthur would have asked about it, had he not been so close. As it was, he'd come inside Merlin after less than five thrusts.

He'd hoped that Merlin would have known something about love between men. Instead, Merlin had been insanely innocent, which made Arthur feel self-conscious and uneasy. Maybe he should have let Merlin fuck him instead, maybe that would have been a more princely thing to do? The idea that he’s displeased Merlin seems more and more plausible.

Gaius is putting lozenges into a little bag when Arthur enters.

"Gaius," Arthur says, and pauses awkwardly. "Where is Merlin? He didn't show up today."

"I'm afraid he seems to have come down with a fever, Sire," Gaius looks him over, far too perceptive for Arthur's taste. "Maybe you're coming down with it as well. You look a bit drawn."

"Can I see Merlin before I go to find someone to bring me breakfast?" Arthur almost stumbles over the words. He can feel his cheeks going hot.

"He's sleeping now. I gave him a potion." The old man looks steadily at Arthur. "Did something happen during the hunt that can have caused this?"

Arthur swallows and tries to make his voice steady. "I was attacked by a boar, Merlin managed to kill it. He got into a bit of a state after that, and I had to-- calm him down."

"Then it must be the shock that has got to him, Sire. It happens, sometimes. It would be good if you could let him rest for a few days."

"Naturally."

"I will tell him that you came to see him when he wakes up."

" _Good_. Well. I should be going, then," Arthur says. "Don't want to spend all day chatting. I have things to do, and so have you, I expect."

"I'm preparing some lozenges for Lady Morgana. She had a cough yesterday and asked me to prepare some for her."

Arthur laughs, grateful for the distraction. "Oh, I know the ones. She would pretend that she was ill just to get them when we were children. I seem to remember that they consist mostly of honey."

"The ingredients are a closely guarded secret, Sire." Gaius doesn't seem happy about having his medicine compared to sweets.

"I could deliver them to her, if you want to," Arthur offers.

"That would be a kindness," Gaius says. "As Merlin is unable to deliver them."

"I'll be on my way then. Tell Merlin to-- Get better, I suppose."

"I will."

Arthur grabs the bag with the lozenges and heads for Morgana's chamber.

When Gwen opens the door for him Morgana is sitting in her bed, a tray in front of her.

"Arthur. What an unusual hour for a social call." Morgana's voice is steely. She hasn't been herself since she returned from her captivity. Some days she's unnaturally happy, other days, like today, she mopes.

Arthur shrugs his shoulders and sits down at her bedside. "I bring you these, from Gaius."

Morgana smiles. "It's usually Merlin who delivers Gaius' remedies. How come we have to put up with you instead?"

"I'm so sorry to disappoint you. Merlin is ill today, so you have to make do with me. Will you give me breakfast in exchange for your sweets?"

Morgana shakes her head. "They're not sweets! They're medicine. Give them to me, or I will order Gwen to tickle you until you surrender them."

Gwen blushes prettily and tries to look dignified.

"Breakfast first," Arthur says.

"Oh, all right. Gwen, will you see if someone can bring me a smoked boar or something?"

Gwen nods at them and goes out in hunt of food.

Arthur hands over the sweets to Morgana, who hides them under one of her many pillows before turning to Arthur. "Is Merlin very ill?"

"He had a nasty shock yesterday, when a boar nearly killed us. Gaius wanted him to rest."

"Oh, the poor thing! Merlin, I mean, not the boar."

"I never knew you cared so much for Merlin," Arthur replies pointedly.

"Everyone cares for Merlin, Arthur. So do we, so do you." Her smile seems to bright somehow. Too much teeth, and not enough sparkle in the eyes.

Arthur looks away. "Well, I hope he gets better. Someone needs to clean out my room."

Eventually Gwen returns, and Arthur breakfasts with Morgana in silence. He wishes he could tell her about Merlin, but of course he can't. So he listens to Morgana telling him about a book she's read.

He goes about his business that day feeling a bit detached. His thoughts wander during a meeting with his father, he feels clumsy during practice. He keeps thinking about Merlin, worrying about him. Eventually, before going to bed, he goes round to Gaius' place again. He opens the door without knocking, but fails to find Gaius.

The door to Merlin's little chamber is ajar, and seeing that Gaius isn't there to stop him, the temptation is too great. When he looks in, Merlin is lying in his bed. He's lying on his side, crouched into a ball. Like this, Merlin looks very small. Shockingly small, more like a child than a man. Arthur understands that he can't very well come in and punch Merlin in the shoulder in a manly fashion, and tell him to get better. Merlin's eyes are closed, but look red-rimmed.

"Merlin?" Arthur says it softly, not wanting to scare him.

Merlin gasps and opens his eyes. "Arthur! What are you doing here?"

As he sits up in bed, he winces slightly. Even with his blanket pulled up to his neck, he manages to look exposed.

"I came to see how you were," Arthur says, hovering by the door. "I heard you were in shock from nearly being killed by a boar, or so Gaius tells me."

"I was not shocked by the boar! I've been through worse stuff, and you know it. I can't believe he goes round telling people things like that."

Arthur frowns. "So what is it, then?"

"Don't know. Maybe a cold?"

"I didn't hurt you? You know-- Yesterday."

Merlin's pale face goes all red. "Of course not! You can't hurt me, your pratness. You don't have the power to hurt me." He looks embarrassed and angry, more like his usual self.

"Fine. So when are you coming back to work?" Arthur is insulted, but refuses to show it.

"Tomorrow. Or I could come now if you _want_ me."

They look at each other, silently. There's a tension in the room, a challenge.

"I wasn't asking you to get back in my bed, idiot," Arthur says, more scandalised than he wants to let on. "I just wanted to know how you were."

Merlin stares daggers at him. "You wanted me in your bed yesterday, am I not good enough for you now?"

"What's got into you?" Arthur asks.

"Nothing, nothing's got into me. You're just being a prat, as you always are!" Merlin looks wild and sad.

Despite himself, Arthur sits down on the bed and puts his lips on Merlin's. He knows he's better at kissing than talking. He pulls his fingers through Merlin's hair as he kisses him. Gently.

Merlin's lips are a bit chapped, it feels as if he's been biting them. He tastes of spices, perhaps the drink that Gaius makes for sick children. At first he's very still, but then he opens his mouth and lets Arthur in. After a while Arthur lets his mouth wander, and licks and kisses along Merlin's jaw. Merlin moans a little, and clutches at Arthur's hair.

"You’re a good kisser," he says, and he sounds as if he's both sad and happy at the same time.

Arthur smiles, kisses down the side of Merlin's soft neck, feeling the pulse beat under his lips. Merlin is stroking Arthur's hair, the nape of his neck, his shoulders. His breathing is erratic, and Arthur imagines he looks as drunk as when they were kissing in the woods yesterday. The sight of Merlin lying on the ground, tracing his own lips with his finger, as if he couldn't believe that Arthur had kissed him, will be with Arthur until the day he dies.

He sucks a little at Merlin's neck, and Merlin moans. On a whim he moves to sit behind Merlin, pushes him a little to make space, before enveloping Merlin in his arms to kiss the nape of his neck. He's so soft there, and his hair smells sweetly of soap and herbs. And then Merlin goes still and limp in his arms, his lovely mouth all quiet. Arthur stops kissing him.

Merlin is slithers out of Arthur's embrace, pulls off his undershirt and his sleeping hose. He bunches them into a tight ball and throws it on the floor, like a knight would throw a gauntlet. Then he positions himself on all fours, his slim thighs wide apart. His head hangs between his shoulders.

"Just do it, let's get it over with." Merlin's voice is all wrong.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought you wanted me. I wouldn't like to deny you anything, _Sire_."

"Are you mad?"

Arthur looks closer at Merlin, sees the slight bruises on his hips. And despite himself he looks at Merlin's backside, touches it. Merlin shudders when he touches it. Merlin looks closer, leans in. And when he sees Merlin's hole he winces. It looks red and puffy, mistreated. Arthur feels sick. His arousal turns into nausea so quickly it hurts.

"Did I do that to you?" he asks.

Merlin turns around. He looks ashamed rather than angry, which is strange. He should be angry. _He should punch me in the face_ , Arthur thinks.

"Does it hurt?" he knows it's a stupid question the moment he has said it.

Merlin reaches for his shirt and puts it on. "It's not as bad as it looks."

Arthur hates himself at that moment. "It's not as bad as it looks? Do you have any idea how bad it looks? I can't believe I've done that to you. To _you_ of all people."

Merlin laughs mirthlessly. "You usually throw things at me. That hurts too."

"But this-- I mean, I didn't _want_ to hurt you. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, and I thought that you wanted me to-- You know--"

"Fuck me?" Merlin offers.

"I'll never touch you again. I swear, Merlin. I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot."

"It's just, I didn't know that you'd never done it-- I felt stupid. I didn't want you to think that I--" Arthur doesn't even understand all of what Merlin is trying to say, but for once he feels he deserves to be made a fool of.

"I've only heard about it," he admits. "From the knights. It's supposed to be brilliant, better than fucking a woman."

"Either the knights don't know what they're talking about, or doing it with a woman must be pretty awful." Merlin smiles a little, and looks tired.

"It's not that bad. With women, I mean." Arthur examines his nails, refuses to look at Merlin.

It seems as if Merlin might laugh, but he doesn't. "So you've done it with a woman?"

Arthur huffs, confused and awkward. He wishes he knew what Merlin was playing at.

Merlin doesn't look awkward at all, and Arthur is inclined to believe that Merlin is knowingly trying to embarrass him. Maybe Merlin knows about sex, but pretends not to.

"So what's the difference between putting your cock into my arse and putting it into a woman?" Merlin asks, and it might just be a rhetorical question.

Arthur feels his ears go red. "Uh-- With a woman is all wet and-- slimy," he says, not believing that they're really having such a bizarre discussion.

Merlin pulls a face, like an eight-year old who thinks girls are scarier than leeches. "I'm sure the women you've bedded would be delighted to be described as slimy."

"Oh, shut up. But your hole was too tight, and it was all _dry_."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Didn't it ever occurred to you that you could do something about that?"

Arthur inclines his head, tempted to say something cutting, but refraining from it. What Merlin is saying actually makes sense.

"You might use oil or ointment or something. It works for massaging the outside of the body, so why not use it on the inside? And it's easier if you open someone up with your fingers first."

"I can't believe I didn't think of that," Arthur says. It all seems obvious now. "But have you-- I thought you hadn't--"

Merlin blushes. "I've never bedded someone. Just touched and kissed and all that. But your servants are a pretty randy bunch. I've learned a lot just from listening to what people talk about in the servant's quarters."

Arthur feels his eyes widen. "I had no idea that other servants ever talked much. I thought you were the only one"

Merlin just laughs at that. "You're a mystery, Arthur. You're completely and utterly hopeless in bed, but you're the best kisser I've encountered by miles."

"I'm a prince, Merlin," Arthur says, still unsure of whether he's allowed to joke. "You're supposed to say I'm a great lover."

"But you're not. I refuse to lie about something like that." Then he hugs Arthur tightly, as if he's afraid that Arthur will run away. And Arthur presses his cheek against Merlin's hair and holds him.

"You don't have to lie, I guess I really am hopeless." It feels good to admit it, at last. "Maybe I should tuck you in now, before Gaius gets home," he adds, not wanting to dwell on his deficiencies for too long.

Merlin nods. Eventually he is lying down, with his head resting on Arthur's arm.

It’s easy just being nice to Merlin, much easier than trying to seduce him. Maybe things will work out between them, somehow. 

*

Arthur wakes up when its dark outside. His arm has gone numb under Merlin's head. Gaius is still out, and Arthur manages to disentangle himself from Merlin to sneak back to his own chambers.

He can't help but touch himself when he finally gets into bed. He uses some of the ointment that he Gaius has given him to keep his hands from cracking in winter. It's odd, burning a little, but not entirely unpleasant. The idea of putting a cock there doesn't seem so bad until he experimentally pushes against his hole with three fingers. Even slicked up like this, it hurts. He grits his teeth, goes back to teasing with one finger.

When he relaxes, it's suddenly quite easy to push a finger inside. It's still quite odd. Until he thinks of Merlin's face, and then it's suddenly quite good. He touches his cock with his free hand. As he gets closer, he imagines that it's Merlin's fingers inside his arse, exploring him, claiming him. When he finally comes, pushing another finger inside, he thinks of Merlin’s cock.

He knows that if they ever get this far again, it must be Merlin who takes him, not the other way around. And if they never get there, well, Arthur supposes he might just have to live with that, too.


End file.
